Chapter Text
“Go take your break. And take this with you.”
Christine held the steaming mug out expectantly, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the subtext there. Una had shown up every weekday morning for the last two weeks, always in the middle of the morning rush, when there was never time for more than a cursory hello. Except today was Saturday, and the rush was over, and Una was sitting quietly at a corner table, staring at a laptop as she sipped the cayenne mocha La’an had meticulously prepared for her earlier.
La’an wasn’t quite sure what to do with the knowledge that she was still ordering it, so many years after La’an had first turned her on to it. She had stubbornly insisted on adding it to the menu once she had been at the cafe long enough to have any kind of pull, had agonized over ratios and flavor profiles for weeks, but no part of her had ever expected to have the chance to actually prepare it for Una, and—
Christine was still staring at her, holding out the mug and looking increasingly smug.
“You’re not the shift lead,” La’an groused. “Contrary to how you act.”
Still, she took the drink and sniffed it cautiously. Steam wafted up, dampening her nose.
“I didn’t poison it.” Christine looked amused and a little offended. “And someone has to make sure you take your breaks. Besides, you seem to be particularly disaster-prone whenever Una is here. So really, it’s a public service.”
La’an scowled.
“Go,” Christine pressed. “And try to be normal about it.”
“Fine.”
La’an cleared her throat as she stepped up to the table, and at once it felt like no time had passed. Like she was twenty years old again, standing in front of a total stranger in the hopes of finding a seat in an overcrowded library. It was that same familiar, fluttering feeling of anxiety, of never quite being able to find her footing, never knowing which words were the right words at any given time.
Being normal about it had never been an option, not with Una.
“Hi.” La’an shifted uncomfortably, mindful of the contents of the cup in her hands sloshing dangerously close to the rim. The last thing she needed was more first-degree burns on her hands and a repeat of that particular humiliation. Her dignity could only take so much.
Una glanced up, and for one fleeting, panicky moment La’an was almost convinced that she had imagined the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of Una’s lips. “Hi.”
“I’m on my break,” La’an barreled on. “Would you mind sharing your table?”
If Erica was wrong, if Christine was wrong… they weren’t, usually, much as La’an hated to admit it. And this would be a particularly cruel prank. But…
This time, Una’s smile was unmistakable, warm and bright and utterly familiar as she closed her laptop and stowed it in the bag at her feet. “I’d like that.”